“It’s Jonathan,” Anne said, her face breaking into a wide smile as she studied her own screen. “He’s asking if anyone wants Bulldog Burgers tonight.”
“Yes,” Lana and Kasey said in unison. Kasey added, “Tell him it’s on me.”
As Anne typed this response, Ben returned, plopping a box down beside where I was sitting. “Found some more dollhouse stuff.”
I pushed the flaps back, revealing a pile of furniture: couch, tiny end table, a standing lamp with an actual cord. In a separate plastic bag, I found the rest of the food, as well as books with real pages. Also, some handsewn linens: pillows with rickrack borders, quilts, a tiny nightgown on a hanger.
“No people,” Ben said, squatting down opposite me. Close enough to remind me of his shoulder bumping mine in the truck, that little zing.
“We had some,” Liz told him. “But they got lost.”
“After Cat cuttheirhair,” Kasey added.
I looked at my mom, who was now consulting her pad of paper. Then I went back to the box, pushing aside a small painted wooden washing machine and a plastic potted plant to unearth… a piano. I slid it onto the porch.
“Is that your guitar?” my mom asked Liz, nodding at the nearby case.
“You played guitar?” Anne asked her. “How did I not know this?”
“It was only for about five minutes.” Liz blushed. “We had this boarder in the cabin—”
“Splinter,” Kasey added.
“Splinter?”
“His actual name was Donald,” Liz told Anne. “Worked at the boatyard. He played and said he’d teach me.”
“And hedid,” Kasey said dramatically.
“No.” Liz sighed. “We had two or three lessons. Then he went to work one day and never came back. Left this behind, with a big mess we had to clean up.”
“God, no kidding. Remember the fridge?” Kasey asked. “It was like a crime scene.”
Ben walked over to the case, undoing the buckles to open it up and take out the guitar. I watched as he settled it into his arms. When he plucked the strings, they made sour, creaky noises. “Not in bad shape. Just needs a little attention.”
“Don’t we all,” Kasey sighed.
“Knock, knock!” a voice came from the porch. “Anyone home?”
“In here,” my mom and Liz said in unison.
It was Angela from the consignment place. Another woman, stout with short hair and also in a North Lake Estate Sales golf shirt, followed behind her. “Just coming by to see how it’s all going. You remember my partner, Janine?”
“Of course,” Liz said. “Come on in.”
“So it’s all getting taken over to the space by the Egg by Friday for the sale Saturday?” Janine asked. Angela nodded. “Honestly, I’m a little worried about the truck and that driveway.”
“You should be,” Kasey said. “How big is it?”
“Box truck.”
Liz said, “I’m sure we can make it work. The hard part is just getting it all down and out.”
“There’s still stuff upstairs?” Janine asked, looking concerned.
“Not that much,” Kasey told her.
My mom looked at Angela. “I was thinking. What about hiring some people to help us move this along?”
